The Diary
by mergrly3286
Summary: The story of the "Chamber of Secrets," book 2 written in first-person from the perspective of Ginny Weasley. Let's face it, Ginny is a pivotal, if mostly hidden, character in this book.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, I was reading "Chamber of Secrets" this week. Then I thought how interesting it would be to explore Ginny's side of this story. She plays an important role, but her character is not very developed because she doesn't spend a lot of time around Harry. So here's the first chapter. If this goes over well, I hope to write the rest of her story. Please let me know what you think.**

The Diary

"Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets" from the perspective of Ginny Weasley

Chapter 1:

It was an average morning in midsummer. I was having a particularly lovely dream: a boy with stunningly green eyes, tousled jet-black hair, and a bolt of lightning across his forehead crawled in through my window. The wonderful boy came to stand beside my bed, watching me sleep. He inclined towards my head slowly, hoping to wake me with a gentle kiss.

I awoke with a start, as I heard a loud yell from outside. I cursed Fred and George under my breath, for whatever they had done to anger Mum so early in the morning. The sun had not yet risen enough to shine through my window. I shoved my pillow over my head, trying to reclaim that final moment of my dream. I dozed lightly for a while, but I could not force myself into sleep deeply enough to reach my fantastic dreams. Finally, I surrendered to the sunlight streaming through the curtains and resolved to go downstairs for some breakfast. I thought I could hear Mum clattering around fixing something.

I stumbled slowly down to the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I wandered into the kitchen, but I stopped suddenly when I caught sight of the boys at our table. I saw the usual parade of redheads: Fred and George (laughing over something or other) and Ron of course. But then my eyes landed on a fourth, who was not Percy, but the very boy of my dreams: Harry Potter! In my kitchen! As his emerald eyes found me, I heard myself squeal involuntarily, and ran from the room.

I sprinted back up the stairs to my room. Breakfast could wait. Harry Potter! Really and truly in my house! I chose my clothing more carefully than normal. Then I spent over half an hour attempting to subdue my long red hair into a decent shape. I looked up from my mirror at last, when I saw a gnome fly past my window. I looked out cautiously, and saw that Harry was outside with my brothers, de-gnoming the garden. My empty stomach rumbled uncomfortably, and I thought now might be a good opportunity to find some breakfast. I double-checked that Harry was indeed outside in the garden, then headed for the kitchen once again.

Mum was making toast and eggs when I entered the kitchen. I approached with care; she was scrambling the innocent eggs rather viciously. Apparently she was still upset with Fred and George.

"Mum?" I asked warily.

"Oh, Ginny dear," she said, turning around kindly. "I thought you'd be needing some breakfast." With this she handed me a plate with toast and butter.

"Mum," I asked, sitting down at the table. "What is Harry Potter doing here?"

"Your brothers," she began, the shadow of anger returning to her face, "flew that contraption of your father's to Harry's house last night to pick him up."

_So that's what sparked the yelling,_ I realized. "Is he, um, staying?" I asked tentatively.

"I suppose so," Mum answered. "Until the start of term, I assume."

_This is going to be a long month, _I thought, nibbling at my toast.

Just then, Dad walked through the front door, slamming it with extra force. It must have been a bad night.

"Hello Molly," he said, kissing Mum on the cheek. He sounded exhausted. He slumped in the chair next to mine.

"Morning Dad," I said, kissing the bald patch at the top his head.

"He's back! Dad's home!" I heard George (or perhaps Fred) yell from the yard. I heard heavy footsteps running towards the kitchen. I quickly dashed out of the kitchen and back up the stairs. I caught a quick glimpse of Harry entering before I ran up the rest of the stairs to my room, two at a time, and slammed the door. Thinking better of it, I propped the door slightly open so I could hear when Harry came up the stairs.

I sat by the crack in the door as I heard Ron and Harry climbing the stairs. I peered out, wanting to catch another glimpse of him. When they reached my landing, his brilliant green eyes found mine. I shut the door promptly, and leaned back against it with a sigh.

Life proceeded fairly normally from that point on, for everyone else in the house at least. Despite my various fantasies, living under the same roof as Harry Potter only seemed to make daily activities more difficult. Dressing myself took twice as long, I could barely speak at all when he was nearby, and I developed an unfortunate habit of knocking things over whenever he entered a room unexpectedly.

About a week after he arrived, however, a piece of mail drove the image of bright green eyes out of my mind for once. A beautiful tawny owl arrived, bringing with it six envelopes. I had seen many envelopes like this before, but this time one of them spelled my name in its shining green ink. My Hogwarts letter had arrived at last!

I read its contents quickly. I knew essentially what the body of the letter said already: "Congratulations, you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," that sort of thing. Mum and Dad both hugged me.

"It's exciting, isn't it?" Dad said, grinning at me.

"Oh, Arthur," Mum began, tearing up a bit. "Our last child, heading off to school in less than a month!"

A few minutes later, the boys entered the cozy kitchen. When I caught sight of Harry, I accidentally shoved my bowl full of porridge to the floor. The clatter echoed around the room as I bent beneath the table to pick up the accursed bowl. I felt my face warming as I returned to my seat, in a less than dignified manner. Harry seemed not to notice as he seated himself on the other side of the table.

"Letters from school," Dad said, passing each to its owner. "Dumbledore knows you're here, Harry," he added. "Doesn't miss a trick, that man."

Mum waved her wand to clear up the porridge under the table as they all perused their own letters silently. I turned to my reading list, trying to keep my eyes off Harry's lightning scar for a moment. I saw the long list of Gilderoy Lockhart books just as Fred mentioned them to Harry.

"That lot won't come cheap," George said sensibly, glancing at Mum and Dad. "Lockhart's books are really expensive."

"Well, we'll manage," Mum replied with a worried look. She peered over my shoulder at the list in my hands. "I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's thing secondhand." I grimaced internally. Everything was secondhand for the youngest child.

"Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?" Harry inquired, in a friendly manner.

I nodded quickly as he looked directly at me. I felt my face go warm again. Then I noticed that my elbow rested in the dish of yellow butter, and I was sure my face reddened by two more shades. Thankfully Percy walked in at that moment, and no one seemed to notice my shame. I made a grateful escape from the kitchen, which now seemed very crowded to me.

Back in my bedroom, I pulled out my Hogwarts letter. I read it over and over again for a while. Finally, I could join all my brothers, and Harry Potter, at school. I smiled at the thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm afraid that I didn't get much response from the first chapter. I decided to press on anyway though. I hope to put another chapter up in a day or so. Hopefully soon I'll be getting into the parts of the book where plot development starts. I hope you enjoy it; please read and review. **

The Diary

Chapter 2

"Ginny, dear!" Mum called, shaking me awake early on Wednesday morning. "We're going to Diagon Alley today to buy your school things, remember?"

"I'm up, Mum," I mumbled sleepily as she left the room to go wake up the boys. I climbed out of bed and began dressing. By the time I reached the kitchen, the bacon sandwiches were almost gone, as the boys had gobbled them up. I managed to swipe two for myself, and ate them quietly in a corner of the small kitchen.

Finally, we lined up in front of the large fire and Mum pulled down the flowerpot of Floo powder. She offered it to Harry first, but of course he had never traveled by Floo powder before, as he was raised by Muggles. Fred and George demonstrated for him, and Mum, Dad, and Ron all called out advice. At last, Harry tossed a handful of glittering powder into the fire and vanished.

"Oh I do hope he makes it out alright," Mum said worriedly.

"He'll be fine, Molly," Dad replied calmly, vanishing himself in the green flames. Ron followed, and then Mum and I went last. The warm flames engulfed us, and we emerged in the fireplace of the dingy wizard's tavern, The Leaky Cauldron.

Fred, George, Percy, Dad, and Ron stood in a semicircle around the fire, all with concerned looks on their faces. I searched the room for tousled dark hair, but all the heads I found sported brilliant red hair.

"Where's Harry?" Mum asked the question that was on my mind as well.

"We're not sure," replied Dad. "He hasn't appeared." Mum pushed the twins out of her way, as though hoping they were hiding Harry behind them.

"Maybe he only went one too far," Ron suggested.

"Well let's hope so," Mum cried in exasperation.

Mum led us out of the pub, through the back door, and tapped her wand on a brick above the dustbins. The magical archway to Diagon Alley appeared and Dad hurried us all through it.

Mum clasped my hand tightly as we began wending our way through the crowded main street towards Gringotts Bank. Everyone was searching the passing strangers frantically for Harry.

"Look, there!" George called. "Is that him with Hagrid?"

"I reckon it is!" answered Fred, standing on tiptoe to see over the crowd.

Dad and the boys all began running towards the huge man called Hagrid. I'd heard my brothers talk about him, but I'd never seen him before. They had not exaggerated in their colorful descriptions of his enormous size. Mum wheezed, failing to keep up with the rest of our family, but not letting go of my hand.

At last we caught up with everyone else. I paused for a moment to marvel at Hagrid's massive presence again. Next I saw a girl with bushy brown hair who was giving Ron a hug. She must be Hermione Granger, I reasoned. Finally I found Harry, who stood between Hagrid and Hermione looking utterly disheveled. His clothing was covered in soot and his glasses had snapped at the bridge. Mum was brushing the soot off fussily and Dad mended his glasses as I watched.

At last, Mum finished thanking Hagrid profusely. Apparently Harry had landed in Knockturn Alley; I had never been there before, but I heard it was an awful place, where dreadful dark objects were sold.

As a large group we trudged up the white marble steps of Gringotts Bank. We passed a pair of goblins, who bowed to us as we entered. I heard a snippet of my parents' conversation:

"Oh I'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something," Dad said.

"You be careful, Arthur," Mum urged. I had never seen Lucius Malfoy before, but I knew how Dad hated him. When we entered the bank, Dad was distracted by Hermione's parents, who were apparently Muggles.

Finally a goblin drove us down to our vault. Mum emptied its small contents into her bag, and then we continued to Harry's vault. He tried to block it from our view, but I caught sight of a large pile of gold Galleons as he grabbed coins and deposited them in a leather bag.

After we left Gringotts, we split up to begin our shopping. Fred and George had found a friend of theirs and ran off with him; Percy went off alone. Dad had convinced Hermione Granger's parents to have a drink with him at the Leaky Cauldron. Mum said she was taking me to a secondhand robe shop.

"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your schoolbooks," Mum called as everyone began walking away. I noticed that Harry headed off with Ron and Hermione. Mum grabbed my hand, pulling me away. We walked for a few minutes through the crowded street, and at last came to the shop Mum was looking for. The wooden sign was dingy and faded; peeling red letters spelled the name of the shop: _The Witch in the Wardrobe._ Mum dragged me inside, and I coughed, breathing in the dusty air. A friendly but tired looking witch approached us and asked what we were looking for.

"My daughter needs some robes for school. She's starting at Hogwarts this year," Mum replied, beaming at me proudly.

"Hmm, yes. Her size is over this way," the witch called, walking towards the back of the shop and beckoning us to follow.

As I tried on robes and the sales-witch began hemming them, she chatted with Mum. She kept glancing at a pocket watch every few minutes.

"I'm sorry to keep checking the time," she added, when she stuck me with a pin distractedly. "I'm anxious to get down to the bookshop."

"Why?" Mum asked. "What's going on?"

"Haven't you heard?" The sales-witch said. "Gilderoy Lockhart is going to be there for a book signing this afternoon!"

"Really?" Mum gasped. She blushed, and began fanning herself. I heard her mumble something about "Quite an attractive man." I tried to stop myself from laughing.

"I also heard from Florean Fortescue down the road that Harry Potter is in the Alley today as well!" the sales-witch continued excitedly. My laughter ceased immediately; I was the one blushing now. Thankfully no one noticed.

"We knew that. He's here with us!" Mum declared proudly. "He's a good friend of my son Ron's."

"Is he really?" The sales-witch gasped in amazement, dropping the pins in her mouth. I was beginning to fear that I would never find a place where no one was talking about Harry Potter.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who's been reading this story. I know it's not very exciting yet... but it's getting there soon, I promise. I'll try to update more often. Especially if you would be so kind as to review and let me know that you're out there, reading and enjoying. Thanks again! **

The Diary: Chapter 3

Mum dragged me into the crowded bookshop. She pushed past a number of eager-looking witches, of about her age, and asserted her place near the front of the crowd. I struggled along behind her, lugging my new cauldron, wand, and robes. Harry, Ron and Hermione came up behind us. I hastily shoved my cauldron out of their way, though they did not seem to notice. It's a little sister's lot in life.

The crowd gave a collective gasp as a man with carefully coiffed blond hair and a brilliantly gleaming smile appeared from behind a curtain. His robes were a flamboyant color of blue that I would barely consider wearing myself. Gilderoy Lockhart sat down, surrounded by grinning, winking pictures of himself. His eyes combed the crowd, taking in the collection of middle-aged witches, pushing and shoving.

"It _can't_ be Harry Potter!" he exclaimed, as he spotted our group. I drew away with the rest of the crowd, as Lockhart seized Harry's arm and dragged him onto the small platform. A short man near us snapped photos wildly. I coughed, choking on the purple smoke emitted by his camera.

As the smoke cleared, I retreated to the edge of the room with my purchases. I surveyed the dramatic scene on the stage. While Gilderoy Lockhart was basking in fame, reveling in the attention, Harry's face betrayed his discomfort. He was blushing enough to rival anyone in my family, and his smile was clearly forced. It was another thing to admire in Harry: he did not ask for attention.

Lockhart personally presented Harry with his collected works. Harry staggered under the weight of the multiple thick volumes. At last, Lockhart allowed Harry to leave the stage. He wandered toward my dark corner.

"You have these," he mumbled, as he dropped the stack of books into my cauldron with a thud. I was blushing now as much as he had been a moment ago. "I'll buy my own," I heard him mutter quietly.

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" I heard someone drawl, unpleasantly. I saw the face appear out of the darkness. The boy was not as tall as Harry or Ron, and he had a pale, pointed face, and shockingly white-blond hair.

"_Famous _Harry Potter," the boy continued, sneering. "Can't even go into a _bookshop _without making the front page."

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" I said, glaring up at him. I felt Harry's eyes on me, and I realized that this was the first time he had heard me speak. I could not bring myself to look back at him.

"Potter, you've got yourself a g_irlfriend_!" the unpleasant boy added, glancing at me. I was really beginning to hate this boy. I felt my face reddening, and backed up into the corner. Ron and Hermione appeared out of the crowd, holding large stacks of books.

"Oh, it's you," Ron said, turning his nose up at the boy. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," the blond boy replied, with a smirk. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."

Ron dropped his books, his ears turning a violent shade of crimson. The last time I saw his ears that red, Percy had broken his broomstick, yelling at Ron for disturbing him while doing summer work. Ron started towards the boy, and I was all for my brother throwing a punch or two. Harry and Hermione, however, seized the back of his jacket, restraining him.

"Ron!" called Dad, emerging from the crowd with Fred and George. "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here. Let's go outside."

"Well, well, well – Arthur Weasley." A second drawling, unpleasant voice drifted from the shadows. An older man with white-blond hair and an equally irksome sneer appeared next to the boy.

"Lucius," my father replied stiffly, with a stoic nod. The pieces came together, and I realized who they were: the Malfoy family that Mum and Dad had mentioned earlier. Wealthy, haughty, purebloods. No wonder their son did not get along with Ron and Harry.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," Mr. Malfoy said coldly. "All those raids… I hope they're paying you overtime?" He reached down into my cauldron, pulling out my secondhand, battered Transfiguration book. I silently cursed the very idea of secondhand objects.

"Obviously not," Mr. Malfoy continued, peering at the harmless book as though it were a pile of owl droppings on his coffee table. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?" Dad flushed a deep shade of scarlet, to match Ron's ears and my cheeks.

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," Dad retorted. I thought he was being far more polite than Malfoy deserved. A good hex to the face might do the trick, though.

"Clearly," said Mr. Malfoy, glaring at the Grangers, who were huddled behind us, staring cautiously. "The company you keep, Weasley… and I thought your family could sink no lower."

Dad suddenly lunged across the floor, sending my cauldron flying out of his path. He knocked Mr. Malfoy into a bookshelf. Heavy spellbooks rained down onto everyone's heads. George (or perhaps Fred, it's difficult to tell) called "Get him, Dad!" but Mum was shrieking madly. The crowd fled away from the scene, toppling more bookshelves.

"Break it up, there, gents, break it up," Hagrid called. The crowd parted to allow his massive girth through. He dragged Dad off Mr. Malfoy, each in one of his huge hands. Dad's lip was bleeding a little, and Mr. Malfoy's eye was turning purple. Somehow he was still holding my Transfiguration book, which he shoved into my hands.

"Here girl, take your book. It's the best your father can give you," he said rudely, glaring at Dad. He shrugged out of Hagrid's grip and called to his son. I finally caught the boy's name: Draco. Draco Malfoy. _I'll add him to my avoid-at-all-costs list for Hogwarts,_ I thought as they swept out of the shop.

"Yeh should've jest ignored him, Arthur," Hagrid was saying as he lifted Dad to his feet.

Finally we escaped the crowded shop and headed down the street. Mum was still scowling at Dad, occasionally muttering something about "brawling in public," or "an example to set for your children."

As we strode swiftly down the main street towards the pub, I looked through the pile of books in my cauldron. Between the beat-up copy of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration _and Lockhart's _Wanderings with Werewolves _was wedged a small black book that I had not noticed before. I jerked the book out of the cauldron and flipped through it, but the pages were empty, except for the dates at the top. _Mum must've bought it when I wasn't looking, _I thought. _But who buys a secondhand diary? _


End file.
